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For more than 20 years, with only a couple of interruptions, my family has done a summer beach week in the Outer Banks. We’ve rented houses all over the place down there (as I type I’m subconsciously rewriting the lyrics to “I’ve Been Everywhere” and swapping in names like Nags Head, Kitty Hawk, Southern Shores, Kill Devil…) but we’ve spent the last bunch of years in Corolla. It’s become my happy place — as much a soothing thought as a geographic location. My favorite pizza place and bar are there, and it’s hard to get to, which is good, because it keeps us from making plans that would require driving.

What I didn’t realize until this year is how much of that happy place feeling had to do with the luxury of being a kid.

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Took this at the turnaround point of yesterday’s run (back at the beach this week). This fence separates the rest of the Corolla beach from the northernmost 4WD-only part, which cracks me up because it makes me think of Jurassic Park, like the trucks and SUVs are going to break out and wreak havoc when they find out the fence isn’t electrified. Whenever I want to run a little further and need to wriggle through the cables, I half expect this to happen.